


Inter-dimensional Relations

by Timballisto



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: F/F, Mostly Maureen centric, also maybe porn sometimes, side Cecil/Carlos, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 00:12:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2208330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timballisto/pseuds/Timballisto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maureen just wants this internship to be over so she can get accepted to the Secret Police Academy. No amount of college credit is worth her boss, her life, or the former intern who keeps popping into her life at the most inconvenient moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inter-dimensional Relations

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd

The thing is, Maureen isn’t really interested in community radio. Or journalism. Or dealing with the eldritch horrors that she assumes live behind the door of Management.

She applied because her application to the Secret Police Academy was rejected.

Who the hell knew you needed experience in community outreach programs if you were applying to power structures of oppressive regimes? There definitely wasn’t anything about it on the application website. Maureen almost sent a strongly worded letter (laced with anthrax, of course) but resisted, barely.

All she needed to do was get through a few weeks of kissing radio host ass and then she could finally end the long string of shitty jobs she’d endured over the last five years. Her extensive knowledge of assault rifles, C4, and Norse runes would get her through the academy—and then it was just a matter of clawing her way to the top.

“Maureen!”

Maureen scowled. She just had to get through her six-month internship first. Without killing her boss. He was one of those guys who’d been around Night Vale for so long that he couldn’t really remember what was reality and what was government-issue hallucinogen. A great guy. But nutty as a fucking fruitcake.

“Maureen! Are you there!?”

I’m on break, Maureen thought half-heartedly. Go away.

“What was that?” Cecil appeared in the doorway; his dark skin looked washed out in the bright industrial light, whereas Maureen’s just stood out more starkly. “Did you think something?”

Maureen plastered a sheepish expression on her face. “My telepathic chip is still out of commission, and I haven’t replaced it yet.”

Cecil tutted at her, his face disapproving. “Irresponsible.” He said, half-joking. “Interns need to be careful about that sort of thing.”

Maureen nodded, even though her smile froze a little on her face. Seriously. She loved Cecil, she did. He was a great boss—one of the most laid back bosses she’d ever had.

But if he made one more oblivious fucking joke about how interns died faster than red shirts on Star Trek (a show she definitely did not watch because it was on Night Vale’s list of forbidden movies because of William Shatner’s obvious alliance with international fruit cartels), she was going to make his boyfriend a widower. Or, er—could boyfriends be widowers? Maureen mentally shrugged. Either way was going to end with Cecil strapped to a stolen government missile, and a very sad Carlos.

“Anyway, would you mind taking these to the copy room? I need an extra copy to set under the management door.”

“I’m on my break.” Maureen said flatly, but Cecil had already grabbed his cup of fresh coffee and was out the door back to the recording booth. Her voice echoed thin and tinny around the titanium walls of the break room, and it was obvious that Cecil had heard absolutely nothing of what she’d said.

Maureen sighed. “To the copy room.” She said, dumping the remains of her lunch into the scorpion pit in the corner of the room before heading out. She made sure that her government issued pistol was loaded with safety off—even though the halls of the radio station were usually safe, being unprepared was what had probably lead to the early retirement of more than a few community radio interns.

She took her membership of the Night Vale chapter of the NRA very seriously.

After double checking the corners, cupboards, and small dark spaces in the copy room, Maureen determined it safe enough to proceed. After the customary prick of blood to start up the copy machine, Maureen allowed her mind to wander.

Which is why she nearly had a heart attack when a hand came down suddenly on her shoulder.

Maureen struck out blindly with her fist, sudden terror for her life overcoming common sense, which dictated going for her gun.

“Maureen! Maureen it’s me! It’s Dana!”

That made Maureen stop flailing long enough to focus on her ‘attacker’. Hair. Eyes. Face.

“Dana Cardinal?” Maureen asked slowly, peeling her hand off of her gun one finger at a time.

“The one and only.” Dana said with a crooked smile.

“I thought you were- uh, lost?”

“I was.” Dana nodded. “But I found myself.”

Maureen cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the lump that had formed. “I’m glad.” She said.  
Dana cocked her head. “You are. Why is that?”

It was a good question, actually. Maureen had, for lack of a better word, loathed Dana. A few months as Cecil’s intern, fighting her double, and being lost in the dog park for a year had done a lot to take that irritating spark of naiveté and turn it into something bearable. In high school, it’d been excruciating. 

Dana had been loud, annoying, idealistic, and there’d been a number of bets about if she’d even survive Night Vale until graduation. To top it off, she’d been debate club president to Maureen’s own position as president of the Militants of Tomorrow organization.

Maureen’s crush was unbearable. It still kind of was.

Instead of mentioning any of that, Maureen just shrugged. “Maturity is a bitch.”

“Mhhhm.” Dana said, slightly unconvinced. “And I’m sorry, again. For startling you that is. It’s not often that I can be seen, and felt, and heard. Even Cecil has problems hearing me.” 

“Night Vale can hear you on the radio, though.” Maureen said. “Cecil can’t hear you while he’s recording, but your voice goes out on the air. So, uh- don’t worry about that, alright?”

Dana smiled, slow and wide. Her teeth were brilliantly white. “That is good news, Maureen. Thank you.”

The pause between them was long, and full of … something. Maureen jumped when the copy machine let out a demonic howl to indicate it was done with Cecil’s papers.

“Uh, yeah. And, you know.” Maureen turned awkwardly back to the copy machine to switch it off. “If you’re ever around, don’t mind stopping by.”

When Maureen turned around, Dana was gone.


End file.
